


Plague Bearer

by DaggerStar



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: A Lot of Death, Disease, Gen, Loving Father, Redemption, Sickness, it's graphic too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 16:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17749772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaggerStar/pseuds/DaggerStar
Summary: A little prayer goes a long way.





	Plague Bearer

**Author's Note:**

> Here's Avery's Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/b4jj0n9erk9blzs6aoortzk6u/playlist/6ZeWUde4Be5L04oriLmers?si=nuplVWjCTZ-5qhSX3gNR5Q

   Snow always fell mercilessly in the village young Ahrn'Adon Suorsige, or Avery, grew up in. Ever since they were a child, Avery helped their father, Shadon Suorsige, with his work. Avery's mother died during childbirth, an event which their father made sure there was no blame anywhere for. Shadon has been the village's doctor for five hundred years. He started studying medicine at only one hundred, very young for any snow elf to choose a profession. He became a skilled potion master and healer at two hundred years old, just in time for the previous village doctor to step down from her post. Shadon’s late wife, Thamdur, had had Avery when she was still a young adult, not much younger than Shadon. Her's was a loss that shook the village, but Shadon stayed strong. He raised little Avery all the while being the village's only doctor very successfully with the help of some of the elders.

 

   The village stands in the middle of an arctic desert, and is a common midpoint for many travellers’ journeys. Many of the snow elves with harder to pronounce names are given Common nicknames. Once Ahrn'Adon began helping their father at work, they cheerily claimed ‘Avery’ for themself. Avery studied medicine along with their father starting even earlier than he, at around ninety. They were fascinated and awestruck. A mix of herbs could heal a wound, a boiled up tincture to ease old bones. It was  _ magical _ . By the age of one hundred, Avery had seen their father save a life with nothing but rosemary, snow, and his own blood. Despite the wonders of field research, Avery preferred to read the books and mix the medicines. They couldn't imagine getting their own hands deep in someone's guts. Even as they grew into a young adult and accompanied the village hunters into the desertlands, they stayed behind with the supplies. Not to say they were a coward, no. Avery could sew shut a wound, or mix up a potion in a panic if necessary and they were happy to do it! They just preferred ink to emergencies. The other hunters didn't mind, however, and were happy to have a nurse along for the ride. Especially during overnight camping when Avery would tell dramatic tales from their less medical books.

 

   One day, while Avery was assisting Shadon with some reorganizing of medicine, a snow elf from their village came in with a wicked cough. She sat down on the bed inside the cozy hut and let Shadon look her over. With a fever to pair, he'd settled on a virus that was rumoured to be going around the town east of the village and had Avery create a jar of antiviral paste. After the visit while washing his hands, Avery surprised their father with a handmade mask to keep the virus at bay. Soon, the father-child duo were passing handmade masks around the whole village to stop the virus from spreading as badly.

 

   As people rid themselves of the virus with the paste Avery made, something more sinister reared its head. A serious disease piggybacking onto everyone's compromised immune systems. A plague. Shadon gathered his bear and told Avery to travel southwest to the city of Adler in search of much needed aid. They took this three days journey without much rest, riding the bear straight into Adler’s metal gates as they shivered from the chill. Avery nearly begged a guard to let them have council with the city's governor, and was granted such an audience. In the governor's warm mansion, Avery pleaded with the rosy-cheeked high elf. This new disease was beyond the power of a couple of village healers. It called for colleged plague doctors. The high elf chuckled and spoke of how this was all just nonsense. A grab for more provisions from such a quaint village. He refused to send more than a small crate of health potions, and asked for Avery to be removed from his mansion. On the ride back home, Avery could feel the fur lining their mask dampen with tears as they sobbed until they wheezed for air.

 

   After coming back, the village was in a state of worsening peril. Shadon could barely keep up, and only had enough supplies to ease his patients’ pain for so much longer. Avery pushed the crate of potions into the hut. Their father smiled upon opening it, and looked up at his offspring.

 

“This is an excellent start! Let me come out and help you bring in the rest. Surely the other doctors won't need too much assistance in the hut, but if they do then you can-”

 

“That's all he gave me,” Avery interjected.

 

Shadon's smile faltered. “What?”

 

“The mayor of Adler thought I was making it all up. That's all the aid he gave me… Gave  _ us _ .”

 

   Silence fell between the two. The air was thick, and outside, other elves could be heard crying out in pain. Some voices attempted to sooth the yells, before coughing. Shadon swallowed and braced his arms on the crate.

 

“That's,” he inhaled sharply, “I can work with this, it's fine, I just need some time to figure something out!”

 

   He began pulling health potions out of the crate, setting them on the alchemy table.

 

“ _ Suoress _ , help me with these,” he asked without looking up.

 

   Avery stood still, watching their father pull out some of the maybe fifteen health potions from the crate. They felt burning behind their eyes and a pit in their stomach.

 

“Avery, give assistance to your old man,” Shadon asked again.

 

   They raised a single hand to their mouth, feeling a warm liquid on their fingers.

 

“Ahrn'Adon, stop standing around and-” he stopped speaking when he saw them.

 

   Avery pulled back their fingers to reveal fey-flecked red blood dripping from the corner of their mouth. They suddenly felt very weak and begun violently coughing. Shadon rushed to their side and led them onto the medical hut's one bed.

 

“S-stop, fa! I need to help, while I'm not yet bedridden.”

 

“You need to rest. Prolong your survival, just enough to let me finish figuring out a cure. Please,” Shadon had tears in his eyes that refused to fall.

 

   Avery pulled him into a deep hug and laid back in the chair. Shadon finished placing the potions on stands and walked over to the decently stocked bookcase. He pulled out ten or so medical texts and set them down next to Avery with a sigh.

 

“Try to find anything related to what's happening to the village. Shout any idea you have at me.”

 

   A wide grin pulled onto Avery's face. They strapped their mask back on and got to work reading. Avery spent hours looking through infectious diseases, viruses, magical influences just to come up empty-handed. It began as a seemingly normal sickness; a cough and a fever. Then it evolved into light internal bleeding. Soon enough, the infected had black, vein-like streaks from their mouth, nose, ears, and inside the scleras. Nothing like that seemed to exist, not even magically. Avery groaned and put their last journal of the bunch down. When they peered over at Shadon, he was still leaning over a steaming cauldron with an intensely focused look on his face. Avery began coughing once more, but attempted to suppress the sound in their arm. Pulling back, they saw blood on their sleeve. After a beat of deliberation, Avery got up off of the reclined chair. Immediately, they were out of breath, but pushed forward. Outside the hut, they heard pleading and crying from other homes. The full, harvest moon shined above the village, showcasing everyone's suffering.

 

   Avery walked slowly but purposefully over to the cattle building. Once inside, they smelled a stench beyond comprehension and lit the oil wick lines tied to stone beams. The cattle building brightened and what Avery saw nearly brought them to their knees. All of the cows and sheep inside laid dead in their pens. Black veins were visible on their skin, and the fur around their mouths were covered in blood. Near the hearth of the cattle building was a body of a snow elf in similar condition; the rancher. She was propped up against the fireplace, right below the shrine Avery had walked there for. With shaky legs, Avery sat down in front of the shrine, trying not to focus on the death around them.

 

“God of health and constitution, please hear my pleas,” they paused to cough. “I need help. Please, I'll do anything. I'm begging you to aid us.”

 

   There was a long moment of silence. Avery was about to stand when their brain felt fuzzy suddenly. Then, a soothing voice spoke.

 

“Anything?”

 

“I'm… sorry?”

 

“Your village bears a terrible plague. You went to Adler and received nothing but some potions. Now you and your doctor father are slaving away for a cure.”

 

“Is there any way you can help us? I know I've never been one for prayer, but we need a miracle.”

 

“I repeat myself: you said you'd do anything?”

 

“Yes, please, anything!”

 

“Okay.”

 

   A beat passed. Then, without warning, Avery felt a searing pain inside their head, worse than any headache. It was as if someone put a hot brand to their brain. They collapsed and screamed. Then, that very same burning spread down their body, syncing with their rapid heartbeat. Avery's entire body felt like it was set ablaze. They felt their throat become raw from their shrieks until they could shriek no more. The pain subsided slowly. Avery gasped for air, but when they tried to sit up, they couldn't.

 

“I'm sorry, I know it hurt,” spoke the voice again, using Avery's mouth, “Please calm down and I'll explain.”

 

   Avery heaved, trying desperately to get their normal rhythm back.

 

“I took over your body. I need a vessel in order to function on the mortal plane. My presence will prevent the plague from spreading inside you, and give me the opportunity to use my powers.”

 

   Avery finally managed to ease their breathing.

 

“I'm sorry you cannot speak for now, but I still understand your emotions. So, let us begin.”

 

   Their legs moved to stand, body pushed up by their arms. This all felt so wrong, so dirty. The god stretched their limbs and cracked their fingers. They walked out of the cattle building, making their way through the village. Heavily gloved fingers raked across certain, deathly quiet huts. Avery felt a surge of power pulse through their body, but also felt a surge of something else. Something darker.

 

“Do not fret, little elf,” the god said through Avery's lips.

 

   At the last word, the voice morphed cadence. What was once soothing, grew twisted and metallic. Avery panicked in their own mind, willing themself control over their body once more.

 

“No no. I still have work to do.”

 

   After the god chuckled, Avery felt their body begin to crackle with magical electricity. In the blink of an eye, they were at the gates of Adler. That electricity crinkled in their veins a touch longer than expected, sending a shock down their spine. The god lurched Avery's body forward, and pushed the steel doors open with ease. Guards shouted for them to stop, but they kept moving forward. Said guards pulled out their weapons and stepped nervously toward the god, but the god simply laughed. One of the guards stopped suddenly, then another. Soon, all of the guards halted. Avery looked through eyes that commanded attention and saw the guards collapse to their knees. Their bodies convulsed until a black, gooey substance poured out of their mouths. A human guard managed to charge at Avery with a spear, but the god stopped her in her tracks. Avery's arm plunged into the guard's chest, through steel plate armour. The guard coughed up blood, then black veins snaked into her wound. The blood looked almost charred and her skin turned a sickly green-white. Black sludge poured from the guard's mouth like a fountain. Avery could feel the blood and ooze on their skin and wanted to scream. They looked into the eyes of this guard and saw the light leave them.

 

   As the god walked through Adler, screams of pain could be heard from every direction. Everyone Avery could see, guards, civilians… children. It didn't matter. They all fell to the ground, squirming and leaking that black ooze. By the time the god arrived at the mayor's mansion, a trail of caustic bodies laid in their wake. Avery was exhausted and terrified, pushing in vain against their own mind while watching their hands become covered in blood. More guards attempted to lock and bar the door to the mansion, but another volt of electricity shot down Avery’s spine and they were inside. They heard the guards outside scream in agony. Maids and butlers in front of them all fell to the ground. Finally, the god walked into the mayor's office with a smile.

 

“Time to reap what you've sewn, mayor Feldrick.”

 

“You're that elf from the village!”

 

The god laughed, “Not quite. Remember when no other god answered your prayers, so you prayed… to me?”

 

   The mayor backed up, shuddering with intense fear.

 

“I did what you asked! I killed for you, and you granted me wealth!”

 

   Avery felt themself pad forward and caress the mayor's cheek.

 

“You owed me your soul and you never paid up. Actions and lack thereof have consequences, dear.”

 

“I-I'm sorry, please, you can have my soul! Take it! Let me live, I'm begging you!”

 

   The mayor fell to his knees, begging the god to spare his body in exchange for his soul. The god smiled and Avery felt a burn pass through their consciousness. They stared down at the man, in a very similar position as Avery had once been in. The god grinned. Avery took control of their head, at last, and breathed heavily.

 

“What nonsense, mayor,” they spoke in their own voice, “A grab from such a quaint little man.”

 

   Avery felt the sickly tendrils around them, stroking their arms like a proud mother. They leaned into the god's embrace. The god raised their arms and placed each hand on the sides of the mayor's face. Avery put pressure against his head and squeezed. Black veins grew out of his mouth as he screamed and scratched at Avery's hands. Blood and muck poured out of every orifice until his cries turned into gargling. Red magic glowed brightly from his eyes as the god holding Avery's arms in place swallowed his soul. As his slimy being slithered through Avery's gullet, they stopped and gagged. The shock of such a thing entering their body launched them back into ready awareness and they gasped. Mayor Feldrick was a husk, standing in front of them with a blank expression, a zombie of the plague. With as much control over their own actions as they could muster, Avery grabbed a letter opener from his desk and slit the mayor's throat. He fell to the ground in a puddle of his own blackened blood. A mercy kill. The god seemed amused.

 

“I've taken what's rightfully mine, little elf. My sincerest gratitude for the help.”

 

   Just like that, a searing, unholy pain ripped through Avery's body once more. And then, the god was gone. Avery fell to the floor and began to sob. They shrieked and wept until their eyes ached and no more tears could fall. Then, they got up with shaky footing and left. Finally, Avery properly witnessed the damage done to Adler. Every person, once alive, suddenly snuffed out. Everything they were, and anything they could be, gone in an agonising flash.

 

   Once Avery was about a mile out of Adler, they fell. They had barely any strength after what had just occurred. A white crow flew down to the ground near them. It stared at Avery with grey eyes and cawed. Avery knelt down in front of it the best they could and let it pick at their gloves. Then, the crow spoke.

 

“Those souls were not ready for the afterlife, Ahrn'Adon Suorsige,” it said in a somber tone.

 

   Avery fell backward.

 

“I'm- I didn't- I couldn't-”

 

“Enough, child. I know what happened, and while you weren't the only party involved, I can only take action against you.”

 

   The snow elf peered at the crow with heavy eyes and leaned forward again, tilting their head down. Their eyes burned again, and their blood-covered hands shook.

 

“Then so be it. But please, if I may ask one thing before my punishment?”

 

“What is it?”

 

“My village is ill with a violent disease. I just… want to see them well. Before you take me.”

 

   The white crow cocked its head and stared at Avery curiously. With a click, the crow agreed. It brought Avery back to the village safely. Off to the side of the outer walls was a stack of burning bodies, and the huts smelled of death. The crow left Avery's shoulder and flew over the village. As it did so, Avery walked through and witnessed what could only be described as a miracle. The remaining people who were coughing up sludge suddenly stopped. The black veins covering their faces faded and the colour returned to their cheeks. Every occupied hut Avery looked into was the same, healthy snow elves crying with joy. Avery smiled. They saw Shadon walk out of the doctor's hut and run to more huts, witnessing the same thing. He ran wild fingers through his thick, black hair and grinned. Then, he saw Avery. Shadon nearly tackled them into a hug, squeezing hard.

 

“Oh,  _ Suoress _ , it's amazing! We're going to heal! The village will be okay!”

 

   He looked at the state they were in.

 

“What happened to you?”

 

“I have to leave the village, fa.”

 

“You most certainly do not. I still need help here picking up the pieces of the village. Many of the elders, they… passed away. We will have a large funeral and appoint new leaders.”

 

“Father, it's not up to me. Nor you. I did something horrible tonight. The same being who gave the village its health has asked for me.”

 

  Shadon looked over Avery, trying to find a way through, but was met with nothing. Tears formed in his eyes as he pulled them into a deep hug.

 

“Whatever you did,” he whispered in their ear, “Know I will always love you.”

 

   Avery met the white crow outside of the village. Where it stood perched on a lantern. As Avery approached, it cawed.

 

“I have thought about you, Ahrn'Adon. You are a healer, yes?”

 

   They nodded.

 

“I see repentance in your silver eyes. I would like to give you an offer I don't normally present to people.”

 

“I don't understand.”

 

“You have the rare instinct to help those in need. You accepted your punishment, but asked for mercy on your village. You have the heart of a healer, so I propose a deal,” the crow stretched its wings. “You may live, but only if you become one of my devotees. I will gift you the ability to heal and aid those passing over to the afterlife.”

 

   Avery's eyes widened and a small smile tugged at the corners of their lips. A life as a healer. They could help anyone who needed it, and ease their pains.

 

“Of course! I'd be honoured!”

 

   Avery charged at the crow and pulled it in for a hug. Its wings ruffled until it squirmed itself onto their shoulder. A magical warmth spread through Avery's veins as the crow gifted them with power. They felt it spread from their heart, down to their toes, and settle in their mind. When they reopened their eyes, a glowing feminine form stood in front of them and the white crow was gone. The glowing form presented to Avery a scythe with the blade in the shape of a crow's head. Once Avery took the scythe into their hands, they felt the warmth inside them settle. Looking into the reflection of the scythe, they saw their once black hair turned stark white with feathers intertwined in the strands. The veins of the plague still rested on their face as a reminder. Avery pulled their mask over their face and hood over their head. A warm cloak was pulled over their shoulders by the glowing figure as well, and it spoke to them once more.

 

“Go forth and give aid, Ahrn'Adon.”

 

“I think it's time to finally chose my adult name.”

 

   They spun their scythe before resting it in their new cloak's sheath and bowing to the glowing god.

 

“N'tham'Ahnvae Suoress'Mor. Your cleric.”

    Avery was reborn with purpose through forgiveness and set out to live their new life for their god. Some nights, they had terrible nightmares and some nights they didn't dream at all throughout their meditation. Occasionally, on bad days, they heard something faint in the back of their mind. The part of them that looked down at mayor Feldrick and loved watching him beg. Seductive whispers in the dark, waiting.


End file.
